


There Is a Field

by TheBadPlace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Benign Neglect, Codependency, Dubious Consent, Grooming, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Obsessive Behavior, Pre-Canon, Student Stiles, Teacher Derek, Touch-Starved Stiles Stilinski, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Reveal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBadPlace/pseuds/TheBadPlace
Summary: Fresh out of his student teaching experience, Derek feels drawn back to Beacon Hills for the first time since he and his sisters ran seven years ago. Laura and Cora don’t understand his insistence on returning to the place where they lost nearly everything, and Derek can’t say he really understands it either. Until his first day as a teacher at Beacon Hills High, when a twelve-year-old genius with big brown eyes and a ridiculous name walks into his classroom and turns Derek’s entire world on its head.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic features a relationship between an adult and a minor. Stiles is twelve years old when they meet, though there will be no sexual contact until he's at least fourteen. Please tread carefully if you have a hard time with underage sex and grooming behaviors.
> 
> Additionally this is an exploration of the obsessive behaviors implied in the Mates trope. If you don't care for obsessive, codependent relationships treated as romantic, this is not the place for you. Please remember to take care of yourself. Don't read things that you know will upset you. <3

_Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there. -- Rumi_

~~~

Derek’s nose wrinkled at the cocktail of clashing scents that assaulted him the moment he walked into Beacon Hills High. He’d known what to expect, thanks to a year of student teaching back in New York before he’d packed up his life and moved back to the place he’d always reluctantly thought of as home. His sisters couldn’t understand what would possess him to move back here, back to the place where most of their family had been ripped away from them in the worst way, and he couldn’t find a way to explain it. It just felt like something he had to do, an instinct he couldn’t name drawing him home.

So here he was, for better or worse, doing his best to block out the jumble of scents floating around the halls of the high school as it filled with students. He made it to his own classroom and shut the door behind him, pausing to take a deep, cleansing breath before he crossed to his desk and set down his briefcase. There was a tiny, windowless office attached to his classroom, and he knew as the rookie on staff he’d gotten the worst one in the building. But he didn’t mind, because the lack of windows and the heavy wooden door meant it would be easier to keep the stench of teenage hormones out of his private space.

His sisters laughed at him every time he complained about it, back while they were all still sharing an apartment in New York. He knew he’d brought it on himself when he decided to teach high school instead of sticking with elementary school, but he knew in the end he’d get bored if he couldn’t have actual conversations with his students about the topics he was trying to drill into their brains. Not that stimulating conversations were that easy to come by in a high school history classroom, but at least they were more likely with teenagers than they would be with a classroom full of little kids.

Then again, considering some of the conversations he’d had to endure during just his first year of teaching, maybe he was being too optimistic. Still, he was only 23, which, according to Laura, was way too young to be so jaded, so Derek did his best to focus on the parts of his job he loved and set about getting ready for the first day of teaching. He’d already been back at work full time for the past two days, but today was the first day the students were reporting, and he ignored the little flutter of nerves at the thought of facing a bunch of strange teenagers all on his own.

His first couple classes went about as well as he could have hoped. He’d had to separate a couple kids and there were one or two threats of detention, but he hadn’t been forced to follow through on any of them. It wasn’t like teachers enjoyed detention any more than the kids – at least most teachers didn’t – especially on the first day when there wasn’t any grading to keep him occupied. So he was just as glad not to have to hang around to babysit unruly teenagers after school.

Not that he had any plans for after school. He hadn’t bothered trying to make friends since he moved back to town, and aside from his colleagues he barely spoke to anyone. The building where his renovated loft was located had been owned by his family for years, so Derek didn’t even have to deal with overly friendly neighbors. It was for the best when his family had a secret as big as theirs, and especially when he was currently living more or less as an omega. Unlike his sisters he’d always been happy enough with his own company, so he didn’t mind the solitude.

Besides, he spent his whole day surrounded by people, so he needed the time alone to recover from all the stimulation of his work day. Even his sisters could understand that, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

Derek was on his last class before lunch, thinking longingly of the forty-five minutes of quiet ahead of him when his classroom door opened and he was hit with a scent like nothing he’d ever smelled before. It was soft and a little muted, as though maybe the person giving off the scent hadn’t fully grown into it yet. There were layers of anxiety and sadness muting it even more, and Derek wanted to push through all that and bury his nose in the scent, to get at the core of it where he could take it in undiluted.

He wanted to close his eyes, to savor the mixture of crushed fallen leaves, fresh cut grass and a little hint of rain. There was the sugary sweetness of youth underlying the other scents, and the combination made him think _home_ in a way that his actual childhood home never had. It hit him suddenly that this... _this_ was why he was called back here, to the site of his pack’s demise.

Mate. The word floated to mind unbidden, making his breath catch in his throat and his heart stutter in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. He spared a moment to imagine Laura’s reaction to the news, to the way she’d laugh when he told her that he came all the way back to California to discover that the one person in the world who was meant just for him was a student in his World History class.

His _freshman_ class, and the realization hit him in the solar plexus at the thought that his mate was nearly a decade his junior. God, Laura was going to have a field day with this when he told her. And it wasn’t as though he could get away with not telling her, at least not for long. She was still his Alpha regardless of the fact that she was living in New York, and even if she never came back to claim their ancestral territory, she’d always be his Alpha.

One more deep breath and Derek looked up in time to watch a slight figure with hunched shoulders dart between the rows of desks to claim a seat in the very back of the room. The kid’s scent wafted back to Derek as he moved, the smell of anxiety spiking even more sharply when he looked up from his desk to find Derek watching him.

His eyes were huge and brown, wider still with his fear and Derek couldn’t help thinking of a fawn in the forest, separated from its mother and scenting a predator on the prowl. That was exactly what it felt like, and Derek had to stop himself from stalking past the rows of desks to claim his prey. Instead he glanced down at his class roster, and when he reached the end he felt his heart drop into his stomach. Because this kid looked young, even for a freshman, and the minute Derek spotted the name on his list he understood why.

The principal had let them know during their first full staff meeting just two days ago that they’d have a younger student this year, a kid so smart he’d been encouraged to skip a couple grades, leaving him just twelve years old and tossed into a sea of teenage hormones without a friend in the world. The staff were supposed to keep an eye on him, not just to make sure his mind was being challenged in the classes his body was way too young for, but his brain was probably already ahead of. They were supposed to watch out for his educational needs, sure, but they were also supposed to keep an eye out to make sure he wasn’t being bullied by kids who were older than him and already focused on finding and destroying the weakest member of the herd.

Just looking at him Derek was pretty sure that was happening already, maybe started even before the kid got to high school, because even when he was in a class with kids his own age, he’d been smarter than all of them. That never went unpunished, Derek knew, even if he’d never had to deal with it firsthand. It would have made him want to wrap the kid up in warm blankets and keep him safe from the world even if he didn’t smell like he was tailor-made for Derek. The fact that _this_ was his mate, this _child_ with big eyes and a cloud of sadness hanging over him made Derek wonder what he’d done that was so wrong the universe just had to keep fucking him over.

“You’re Miec...” Derek stumbled over the name, wincing even as he wondered who in their right mind would do that to a kid.

“Stiles,” the kid said in a voice so soft Derek wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t for his supernatural hearing.

“Sorry?” he said, just to hear the kid talk again. And God, this was just perfect, because the kid was twelve years old and Derek _still_ wanted to bury his nose in that pale neck and just breathe in for the rest of his life.

“Call me Stiles. Nobody says...that other name,” he answered, voice a little stronger. By the end of the sentence he sounded almost defiant, as though he was expecting to be challenged for the right to choose what he wanted to be called.

Instead of arguing Derek just nodded, then he flashed a small, rare smile at the kid. “Got it. Stiles it is.”

He didn’t smile back, but he lost a little of the tension in his shoulders, so Derek counted it as a victory. He wanted to see the kid – Stiles – smile, but he’d take what he could get. After all, they had the rest of their lives to get to know each other, and Derek was going to have to wait a long time before he did half the things he wanted to do with this kid.

The thing was, Derek knew exactly who his mate was. Or more importantly, he knew who Stiles’ _father_ was, and that made everything even more precarious. It had been Deputy Stilinski who’d stopped him from running into the house to burn with his family during the fire, and it had been Sheriff Stilinski the principal lectured them about two days ago when he was cautioning the staff to keep an eye on the Sheriff’s kid. It wouldn’t look good for any of them if they let any harm befall the Sheriff’s kid on their watch, and if anyone caught wind of what Derek was thinking right now, he’d be out on his ass faster than he could say ‘pedophile’.

Not that he was planning to touch the kid, at least not like that. Still, Derek wanted to get a lot closer to Stiles than most people would be comfortable with, especially since he couldn’t explain why he felt the need to scent the kid and mark him so any other wolf who happened along would know exactly who Stiles belonged to.

But even more than worrying about getting himself fired, Derek had no desire to spook his mate, so he promised himself that he’d keep his hands to himself no matter how hard it was. That didn’t mean he couldn’t look out for Stiles, though, make sure none of the other students gave him trouble and be there so that Stiles knew he had an adult he could come to when he needed to talk. If that was all he could have of Stiles for now he’d take it gladly, and maybe once Stiles learned to trust him Derek could explain just why he’d taken such an interest in the kid.

The classroom door opened again and Derek looked up to watch more students stumble into the room. He saw the looks they shot the boy in the back row, frowning when one of them giggled and elbowed the other before they chose seats on the far side of the room. It didn’t make sense that two years should make such a difference, but Derek was young enough to remember the way two years felt like practically a lifetime when he was a kid. He’d spent a lot of time feeling much more worldly and mature than his little sister, but in the end it turned out that he was the one who’d needed sheltering from the evils of the outside world.

Derek shook off the memory and glanced one more time at Stiles, his heart sinking at the return of hunched shoulders and the way the boy stared down at his desk so he wouldn’t have to look at the other kids. He wanted to tear down the world to keep this boy – _his_ boy – safe from harm, safe from whatever sadness floated around him like a veil. They’d barely said a dozen words to each other and he wanted to grab the kid and run away with him, to hide him away from the world where nothing could ever hurt him again.

Yeah, he was definitely going to get himself fired before the end of the year.


	2. Chapter 2

When Laura called to ask how his first day as a Real Live Teacher went, Derek didn’t tell her about Stiles. He wasn’t sure why, exactly. Maybe part of him was worried that as soon as Laura found out his mate was not only a student, but a _preteen_ , she’d fly right out to California and drag him back to New York by his ear. Maybe she’d even be right to do it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to leave his mate all alone now that he’d found him. Not when he smelled so sad, with undercurrents of fear and loneliness that made Derek wonder just what the hell his home life was like.

The Sheriff had seemed like a good man when Derek met him, back when he was still a kid himself, but he knew better than most that looks could be deceiving. He also knew that it was easy for law enforcement officials, particularly ones who were well-liked in their community, to hide a multitude of sins behind closed doors. He didn’t want to believe it of Stiles’ father, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances with his mate, either.

So maybe he hadn’t told Laura about finding his mate because he knew eventually she’d figure out how he was spending his free time these days. She’d find out, and then she would make him leave town. Or worse, she’d make him talk to the Sheriff, and there was no way that conversation was going to go well. Even if he believed Derek about werewolves and the instinctive need to protect the person his wolf recognized as _mate_ , there was no way the Sheriff was going to be okay with the idea of Derek’s mate being his very underage son.

Which was exactly why Derek was keeping his distance, using his natural instincts for stealth to keep an eye on the Stilinski house outside of school hours. He wouldn’t classify what he was doing as stalking, exactly, because he only wanted to make sure Stiles was safe and that nothing was happening behind closed doors that shouldn’t be. If that meant hanging out just inside the tree line behind the house, or occasionally scaling the back of the house for a better vantage point into Stiles’ room, well. What the Sheriff and Laura didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

The first time he heard Stiles crying quietly all alone in his room, it took everything in Derek not to climb through the window to comfort him. That would definitely get him arrested, but worse than that, it would ensure that Stiles never trusted him, and there was no way Derek was going to risk that. He didn’t know why Stiles was crying, but after a week of observation he knew that Stiles spent an awful lot of time alone.

There didn’t appear to be any mother in the picture, and his father worked a lot more than a single parent of a preteen really should. Especially considering Stiles was a genius recently thrust into a sea of kids who were all older than he was, and it didn’t seem as though he had the emotional support at home to help him adjust.

Derek’s parents had both worked when he was a kid, but one of them always made sure to be around for their kids at dinner time and on the weekends. They never left Derek and his sisters to their own devices, and if his own parents couldn’t be there, he had plenty of aunts and uncles to fill in the gaps. It wasn’t that his family was perfect – he still managed to get tangled up with an older hunter and avoid detection long enough to get most of his family killed, after all – but there was never a question of how much they cared about their kids.

He couldn’t say for sure that the Sheriff didn’t care about his own son, but if he did he was pretty bad at showing it. Derek had watched Stiles come home to an empty house every night during the first week of school, and on a few of those nights it was long past dinner time and well into night when the Sheriff finally made an appearance. One night he turned up long after Stiles had fallen asleep only to wake him up and bundle him into the back of his squad car before driving away again. Derek didn’t follow to see where Stiles was taken, but he noticed the slightly darker than usual circles under Stiles’ eyes in class the next day.

It was the third week of school when Derek scent marked him for the first time. It was the second time Stiles had come into his classroom looking exhausted and defeated, and all Derek wanted to do was scoop him up and take him back to his loft where he could tuck Stiles into his big bed and let him sleep for as long as he needed. But that was out of the question, so instead he paused while handing back the quizzes he’d given the class on Monday to squeeze Stiles’ shoulder, two of his fingers just trailing along the bare skin of the boy’s nape as he smiled down at him.

“Nice work,” he said, nodding at the 110 percent marked in red on the top of his paper. Stiles hadn’t smiled back at him, but his cheeks had flushed a little, whether from Derek’s touch or the praise he wasn’t sure. It made him want to keep doing both, but instead he let go of Stiles’ shoulder and kept moving up the aisle until he reached the front of the classroom again.

The brief contact settled Derek a little, but he still didn’t have any answers about Stiles’ home life or why he was always so sad. Which was how he found himself in the office after school, loitering near the secretary’s desk and trying to figure out a way to get his hands on Stiles’ file without seeming suspicious. He wasn’t sure the answers were in there either, but at least it was a place to start.

Derek was contemplating whether or not to try flirting with the secretary in order to get what he wanted when the librarian walked in, a troubled frown pulling her mouth down at the corners. “Here it is,” she said, waving a piece of paper as though she expected the secretary to be waiting for it.

Apparently she was, because she let out a heavy sigh and reached across her desk for it. “Are you sure it’s necessary?”

“You know I didn’t want to,” the librarian – Miss Stewart, Derek was pretty sure – said, “but as much as I feel sorry for him, I can’t let him get away with it. I know it’s hard for him, being away from kids his own age, but he can’t eat lunch in the library every day. It’s our number one rule.”

The secretary nodded and flipped open a file sitting on her desk. Derek craned his neck just enough to read the name along the edge: _Stilinski, Mieczyslaw_.

“That’s the original,” Miss Stewart said when the secretary started to tuck what must be an incident report into Stiles’ file.

“Oh, of course. Just a minute,” the secretary said, then she stood up and crossed the office to the room where they kept the copiers. Miss Stewart wandered away to check her box at the same moment, and Derek didn’t waste any time picking the file up off the secretary’s desk and flipping through it.

Most of it was incident reports from his old school, details of classroom disruptions and complaints from teachers that he couldn’t sit still and they had difficulty engaging him. The kid described in the file was nothing like the scared, quiet boy Derek knew, and he flipped through more pages, searching for the reason for such a drastic change.

He found it near the back of the file, a one-page report from the school psychologist about Stiles’ emotional state after his mother’s death. The details were thin, but Derek gathered from the vague notes that it had been a long, drawn-out illness. She’d only died a year ago, according to the file, and not long after that he’d been torn away from his friends and enrolled in the high school. 

At the sound of a door opening behind him Derek closed the file and dropped it back on the desk. He stepped away just in time for the secretary to reappear, her eyes narrowing at him. “Did you need something, Mr. Hale?”

“Just checking my box,” he answered, flashing his most charming smile, the one that made his sisters roll their eyes because they knew exactly how fake it was. It worked on anyone who didn’t know him, though, and the secretary was no exception. He watched as the apples of her cheeks flushed, and she smiled back in spite of herself.

“Of course,” she said, then she tucked the librarian’s incident report inside Stiles’ file before she whisked it away to the giant filing cabinet in the principal’s office.

Derek stopped to check his box, just for show, then he headed back to his classroom to pick up his briefcase and head back to his loft. He ate dinner leaning against the counter in his small kitchen, his mind on Stiles and the image of him tucked up between the stacks in the library, hiding himself away from the dangers of the high school cafeteria. Just the thought made Derek’s heart ache. He could barely stand the thought of Stiles alone at home where he was safe; imagining how alone he must feel at school was enough to make Derek struggle for control over his wolf in a way he hadn’t since just after the fire.

He wanted – no, he _needed_ – to be there for Stiles, to take some of the burden of sadness from his little mate. And why shouldn’t he? After all, if anyone understood the depth of Stiles’ loss it was him, and who better to comfort him than the one person who cared more for him than anyone else on earth? Since the first moment Derek saw him he knew he’d spend the rest of his life living for his mate, doing whatever he could to ensure that Stiles was happy and safe and loved every minute. He was too young to understand right now, but at least Derek could be there to look after him until he was ready to hear the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

By the next morning he had a plan. He had no idea if it would work, but at least he had one. Stiles mostly kept quiet in his class, and Derek couldn’t tell if the kid liked him at all, let alone trusted him. Still, he had to start somewhere, and the conversation he’d overheard in the office yesterday had given him the perfect in.

He left the loft early enough to swing by his favorite coffee shop on the way into work, taking his time picking out a couple items from the pastry case before he ordered a black coffee to go. His morning classes dragged in spite of the extra dose of caffeine, and when World History rolled around he felt like he might just crawl out of his skin. Derek managed to make it through the class mainly by making his students take turns reading out loud from their textbook. He knew World War I was going to be a hard sell, and when he had to stop every few lines to explain some battle or remind them who a particular general was he got the feeling not a lot of the lesson was sinking in.

Still, it was part of the curriculum, and if every other freshman in Beacon Hills history had suffered through it, they could too. He wasn’t surprised to see that Stiles kept up with the material better than most of the other students in his class. He knew the kid was smart, and no matter how quiet he was, there was no hiding his intelligence when it came to the weekly quizzes Derek subjected his class to. Not that there had been many yet, but so far Stiles had managed perfect grades on all of them, including the extra credit questions.

The hour dragged so slowly Derek was sure it was never going to end, but finally the bell rang and his students scrambled to pack up their things. Derek watched Stiles moving more slowly than his classmates, dragging out the process of packing up as though he was trying to delay the inevitable. Derek waited until he finally stood up, eyes down as he made his way up the row of desks to the front of the room.

“Stiles,” Derek said when he was even with the teacher’s desk. “I’d like to have a word with you.”

Stiles glanced up at him, eyes wide and a little scared, and Derek’s heart broke all over again. But Stiles just nodded and looked back down, so Derek stood up from the teacher’s desk and gestured toward his office door. “Come on.”

None of the other students waited around to make sure Stiles was okay. Derek had been counting on that, even though he hated what that meant for his boy. He shook off the thought and opened the door to his office, waving Stiles inside and closing the door behind him before he took a seat at the smaller desk inside.

“You’re not in trouble,” Derek said, flashing an encouraging smile when Stiles looked up at him. “Sit down.”

Stiles sat, his bag hitting the floor next to him and his arms curling around his waist like he was protecting himself. Derek frowned at the defensive posture, but he shook it off as best he could and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk.

“I ran into the librarian after school yesterday. She said she had to kick you out.”

Stiles shrugged without quite meeting his eyes. Instead he glanced at the wall where a window would be if anyone had bothered to put one in. Instead his gaze fell on the framed photo of Central Park that Laura and Cora had gifted him with before he left New York. They told him it was to remind him what he was leaving behind, but the truth was he didn’t really miss the city. There was safety in all that anonymity, he knew. That’s why Laura liked it there so much, after all. But Derek spent his time there yearning for open spaces, for the woods of the Preserve and the freedom to run without having to worry about who he might happen upon.

“It’s a stupid rule,” Stiles said, defiant, and Derek didn’t bother to hide his grin.

“Yeah, I always thought so too, when I was a student here.”

Stiles looked up at that, mouth open like maybe he was going to ask a question, but then he pressed his lips together again and looked down at his knees.

“Your lunch period is right now?”

Stiles nodded without looking up, and it took all Derek’s strength to keep himself from reaching over to curl his hand around the back of his boy’s neck and draw him into his arms. He wanted to hold him close and keep him safe, but if all he could get was a lunch period in Stiles’ company, he’d take it.

“Well, it’s my lunch period right now too, and I usually eat in my office. So if you want, you can hang out here during lunch. I can’t offer quite as much reading material as the library, but no one’s going to bother you.”

When Stiles looked up this time his eyes were wide, but instead of fear they were shining with what Derek could only guess was hope. His scent shifted, some of the ever-present anxiety fading to let his natural woods-grass-rain scent shine through. “Really?”

“Really,” Derek answered, doing his best not to let his joy show too much. “In fact, I’ll even share my dessert,” he said, pulling the pastry bag from the coffee shop out of his desk and setting it in front of him. “Do you need to go to your locker to get your lunch?”

Stiles shook his head and reached for his bag, pulling out a sandwich and a slightly bruised apple. It was a pretty depressing lunch, and Derek found himself plotting ways to get the kid to let Derek feed him more than just dessert. He wasn’t going to press for too much too fast, though. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Stiles away, not when he’d just figured out a way to get closer.

He got out his own lunch while Stiles pulled a comic book out of his bag, trying not to stare when he opened it on the corner of the desk and started reading while he ate his sandwich. It wasn’t the conversation Derek would have preferred, but he’d promised Stiles that no one would bother him here, and he was going to keep that promise. And if he spent their lunch together breathing in the scent of his mate, well, that wasn’t anyone’s business but his.

They fell into a routine pretty easily after that. Apparently baked goods was the key to Stiles’ trust, because once Derek offered him the choice between a brownie and a chocolate chip cookie nearly the size of his head, only to press both of them on him in the end, Stiles seemed to accept that Derek wasn’t out to hurt him. He stayed for lunch again the next day, anyway, and by the end of the week they’d had an actual conversation.

“DC, huh?” Derek had said the second time Stiles pulled out a Batman comic and settled in with his sandwich. “I was always more of a Marvel fan, myself.”

Stiles had shrugged, but he’d looked up at Derek from under his long eyelashes, and Derek had to grip his thighs tight to keep from reaching out and touching. “I like Marvel, but Batman’s cool.”

Derek had nodded and smiled down into his thermos of soup. “He is. But Captain America’s pretty cool too.”

“Yeah, but he had to get injected with super soldier serum to be a superhero,” Stiles said, eyes lighting up in a way Derek had never seen before. “Batman’s just a regular guy, but he still saves people and fights off the bad guys. Like my dad.”

Derek didn’t point out the fact that Batman had a lot of money and all kinds of gadgets that weren’t available to the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department. It was clearly important to the kid to believe that regular people could be heroes, and Derek wasn’t going to take that away from him. If he needed to believe that his dad was a hero, out fighting crime and saving the city from bad guys, then Derek was happy to go along with it. Maybe that was the only way Stiles could explain the fact that his father left him to his own devices more often than not, that at twelve years old he was already taking care of himself in ways no kid should have to.

Derek knew what it felt like to lose a parent, and he wasn’t surprised Stiles would cling to the idea of his remaining parent, even if his dad wasn’t exactly clinging to him. Most of Derek was sad that Stiles didn’t seem to have anyone in his life to lean on, to notice that he was having a hard time and offer him comfort. But there was a darker, possessive part of him that was glad, because it meant _he_ could be all those things for his mate. He just had to get Stiles to trust him, and then Derek would offer him the world.

The first Saturday after Stiles started having lunch in his office, Derek found the local comic book shop. It was the same one he frequented when he was a teenager, back before his entire life imploded. The kid working the register was too young to remember him, and Derek was glad, because the last thing he wanted to do was make small talk about why he was still reading comics at his age. 

He poked around the store for nearly an hour, picking up titles he recognized along with some new ones he thought looked interesting. By the time he headed back to the register, he had a bigger pile than he’d planned, consisting of a few serials and some graphic novels he’d enjoyed when he was younger. 

“Did you want to start a box?” the kid behind the counter asked, eyeing the stack in Derek’s hands. 

“No,” Derek said as he slid his purchases onto the counter to be rung up. He considered asking if Stiles had a box, but before the words escaped him he managed to stop himself. It was one thing to pick up a few titles he remembered enjoying as a kid and passing them off as his own collection, but if he bought whatever Stiles had put aside for himself, there was no way he could claim it was a coincidence. 

Then there was the possibility, however remote, that somehow Derek’s interest in the Sheriff’s kid might get back to the Sheriff himself. Chances were the bored teenager behind the counter of the comic book shop didn’t know or care about the Sheriff, but it was a small enough town that Derek wasn’t willing to take the chance. Even if the wrong person overheard him it could spell trouble, and the last thing Derek wanted was to draw attention to himself.

So he paid for his purchases and headed back out to his car, tucking them carefully in the trunk before he pulled back into Saturday morning traffic and headed for the hospital. He’d visited his uncle every Saturday since he came back to Beacon Hills. The first couple visits were quiet and awkward and left Derek gripped with guilt for the rest of the weekend, but once he thought to bring a book and read to Peter it got a little easier to see him. 

He hadn’t talked much about his job or his students, and he definitely hadn’t mentioned meeting his mate. The idea of saying it out loud still felt dangerous, even when there was no chance of Peter repeating what Derek said to anyone. So far the closest he’d gotten to sharing secrets was apologizing to Peter, for leaving him behind and for getting most of their family killed in the first place. 

It had taken his sisters a long time to convince him they didn’t blame him for what Kate did, and there were plenty of days when he still felt as though he’d never get the blood off his hands. There were days even now when he felt like he didn’t deserve the happiness of finding his mate, when he worried that just by being around Stiles that he’d find a way to ruin him. But he’d never been selfless, and he wasn’t going to give up Stiles when it was clear that he didn’t have anyone else to look out for him.

“Hello, Peter,” Derek said when he reached his uncle’s room. Peter was seated in his wheelchair, pointed toward the window with the same vacant expression on his face he’d worn every time Derek had visited. He ignored the familiar tug of guilt in his gut and pulled a chair close to Peter, reaching for the book he’d left on the table near the window and holding it in his hands without opening it. 

“How are you today?” he asked, even though he knew he wouldn’t get an answer. It had felt a little silly talking to Peter at first, especially given how often Derek talked on a normal basis. But Peter’s nurse had told him on his first visit that talking might help with his recovery, and after leaving him on his own for so long, Derek figured it was the least he could do. Reading was a good compromise, but for some reason today he was too restless to slog through another chapter of The Goldfinch.

“So I have news,” Derek said, lowering his voice to make sure none of the hospital staff overheard. “I haven’t told anyone else, not even Laura. I’m afraid if I do that she’ll try to make me go back to New York.”

He took a deep breath and glanced toward the door to Peter’s room, but it was still closed tight. “I found my mate a few weeks ago. He’s one of my students.”

Derek let out a sound that could have passed for a laugh and ran the hand that wasn’t still clutching the book through his hair. “He’s so young, Uncle. Younger even than my other students. And he’s smart…they moved him up a couple grades because his old teachers couldn’t keep up with him.”

He looked up at his uncle again, but Peter’s expression hadn’t changed at all. It was exactly what Derek expected, and somehow Peter’s lack of response made it a little easier to keep talking. “If Laura finds out how young he is she might make me leave. It’s what Mom would have done, I know. But I can’t leave him alone, not when he doesn’t have anyone else. He lost his mother just last year, and his father…”

Derek paused again and blew out a hard breath. He wished his own parents were here. Even if they told him he had to stay away from Stiles, at least they’d have some idea how to help him with the overwhelming loneliness Derek could smell on him every day. Even if they sent Derek away and took Stiles into the pack instead, that would be better than thinking of him on his own in his father’s house, mourning his mother alone.

But his parents were gone, and Derek only had himself to blame. He didn’t even deserve a mate after what he’d done to his family. Then again, Stiles didn’t deserve to lose his mom, and he didn’t deserve a father who barely even came home long enough to make sure his kid was still alive. So maybe having such a young mate to take care of was penance, in a way, and if that was the case Derek would do it gladly. 

“His father’s the Sheriff,” Derek finally said. He knew he was imagining the slight tick in one of Peter’s eyes, but Derek nodded anyway. “I know. But I’ve been watching, and he barely spends any time with the kid. He’s hardly ever home, and Stiles spends all his time rattling around in their house by himself. He’s so alone, Uncle.”

_Like me,_ he didn’t add, mostly because Derek’s loneliness was his own fault. If he wanted company he knew how easy it would be to find, knew what he looked like, and he knew how people reacted when he mustered up what his sisters referred to as his ‘panty-dropping’ grin. Which was pretty weird, coming from his sisters, so he tried not to think about it. And anyway, he wasn’t interested in hooking up with anyone, much less finding some random, age-appropriate stranger to invade his private space and talk to him about things he didn’t care about.

“I guess we can both relate to that,” Derek said with a sad smile in Peter’s direction. “Maybe someday you’ll get a chance to meet him. I bet you’d like him, he’s smart enough to keep up with you.”

Granted, Stiles was too young and wide-eyed to appreciate the Peter Derek had known before the fire, the smart, sharp-witted cool uncle with a mean streak that snuck up on you when you were least expecting it. But there had been a few glimpses of the personality Stiles was hiding during their lunches together, and just from the way Stiles argued about comic books, Derek had a feeling he’d be able to hold his own against Peter before too long.

The thought made Derek smile for real this time, and he finally opened his book to the place where they’d left off during his last visit. “That’s probably enough about my boring life for one visit. Should we read some more?” he said, then he launched into the story and did his best not to let his mind wander to Stiles for a while.

He left the hospital a couple hours later, heading back to the loft to drop off his purchases and change into running clothes. It was tempting to drive past Stiles’ house, but he knew better than to let the neighbors get used to seeing his car driving by. Eventually one of them would get suspicious enough to mention it to the sheriff, and if they got a license plate number Derek would find himself on the wrong end of a conversation he really didn’t want to have.

Instead he ran through town, keeping his speed to human levels until he hit the woods and left any prying eyes behind. He steered clear of the walking paths where he might run into hikers out for a day communing with nature. He stayed clear of the shell of his family’s old house, too, sticking closer to town instead, and he wasn’t at all surprised when he found himself in the woods just behind the Stilinski house. 

It still wasn’t stalking, not if he hadn’t meant to end up there. That’s what he told himself as he leaned against a tree and stretched out his senses until he found Stiles’ heartbeat, the familiar, too-fast rhythm settling him in a way nothing else ever had. Maybe he should be worried about the quick beat of Stiles’ heart, but he hoped that the Sheriff at least took his son to a doctor on a regular basis. The thought made Derek wonder all over again what illness had killed Mrs. Stilinski, if it was hereditary and if it was something the bite could cure.

It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered if Stiles would want the bite, once he knew everything there was to know about being a werewolf. The thought made something in his chest tighten, and he had to push away thoughts of Paige and all the guilt that came with her memory. Losing her had left him broken and vulnerable, but losing Stiles…he didn’t think he’d survive that.

Derek laughed to himself at the idea that he could be so attached to a kid he barely knew. Even Laura would laugh at him, mate or not, if she saw him carrying on like this over someone more than ten years younger than him. But Stiles was his mate, and that meant Derek didn’t have to be rational. 

He listened a little harder and found a second heartbeat, slow and steady in a rhythm that sounded like sleep. The Sheriff must be home, must have worked a late shift the night before to be napping in the middle of a Saturday. Which meant Stiles was alone again, even with his father at home. Just for a second Derek let himself entertain the fantasy of climbing up to Stiles’ bedroom window, slipping inside to see him even with his father sleeping in the next room. Or better yet, grabbing Stiles and taking him away, back to his loft or maybe all the way out of town, across the country until they were safe in New York with his pack.

But Derek knew better, knew what Laura’s reaction would be if he showed up with a kidnapped preteen. He could even imagine Stiles’ reaction, because his father might not spend much time with him, but it was obvious from the few times Stiles had mentioned him that he loved the man. Even if it was just the idea of him that Stiles loved, he wouldn’t thank Derek for taking him away from the only home he knew. So Derek forced himself to turn away from the house, slipping back into the woods to make his way through the trees and home.


	4. Chapter 4

It hardly took Stiles any time at all to spot the stack of comics in Derek’s office during lunch on Monday. Granted, Derek hadn’t gone to any lengths at all to hide them. He’d thought about it, but even if Stiles believed they were just titles from Derek’s own childhood collection, it was still obvious Derek had brought them in for him.

“These were some of my favorites when I was a kid. Thought you might like to check them out.”

Stiles eyed him with something almost like suspicion for a moment, but before Derek could wonder why he was looking down at the desk, sifting through the pile. “Thanks.”

Derek smiled, pleased at the light in Stiles’ eyes as he scanned each title. When Stiles paused over a Wolverine comic Derek forced back a laugh. Maybe it was a little too on the nose, but it wasn’t like Stiles was going to get the joke until Derek explained it, and that wouldn’t happen for a while yet. 

“You like X-Men?” Stiles darted half a glance in Derek’s direction before going back to perusing the titles with studied indifference, so Derek was free to watch the way his eyes roamed over the titles without really seeing them.

“I used to, when I was your age. Can’t say I’ve read any of them in a while.”

Stiles nodded and glanced toward the picture of Central Park the way he did whenever he was about to say something Derek was pretty sure he didn’t want to say.

“I’ve seen a couple of the movies. Not the latest one. I was supposed to go with my friend Scott, but…” He paused, neck flushing and it was all Derek could do not to reach out and feel the heat of his skin. “He’s got other friends now. I guess he went with them.”

The scent of loneliness spiked high enough to make Derek’s nose wrinkle. It made him want to find this Scott kid and tear him apart, even though he knew it wasn’t really his fault. He was just a kid, and he was going to spend time with the other kids who were around him all day at school. It was no surprise that Stiles going to high school meant his friends had pretty much forgotten about him, but it didn’t make the look on Stiles’ face any less heartbreaking.

Derek felt helpless – that he couldn’t protect Stiles from the other students, that he couldn’t offer him the comfort he wanted to, that he couldn’t even offer to do something as simple as take him to the movies. It made him wish all over again for his mother. She’d know what to do, how to reach the Sheriff, or, failing that, how to work around him and bring Stiles into a family that would love him the way he deserved. She’d never been one for taking in strays, but there was no way she’d leave Derek’s mate on his own when even his friends had turned their backs on him.

Even Laura would know better than him what to do, and maybe if she were here Derek would tell her about Stiles and let her take over. But she wasn’t, and she had no interest in coming home to reclaim their land, so there was no point in telling her what was going on.

“Hey, I almost forgot,” Derek said, steering the conversation away from all the things they’d both lost as he reached into his desk for the giant chocolate-dipped rice krispy treat he’d picked up at the coffee shop. He pushed it across the desk, smiling when Stiles reached out to take it.

“Thanks,” he said, head still down, but there was a little twitch at the corner of his mouth, so Derek counted it as a win.

They’d had lunch together every day for a month when they were nearly caught for the first time. Derek was leaning forward on his desk, elbows resting on the worn wood and a soft smile on his face while he listened to Stiles telling a story about hanging around the police station, hiding under his dad’s desk with a stack of comics and unknowingly causing a panic when he fell asleep and no one could find him.

He was so caught up in picturing an even younger Stiles causing an uproar among the deputies that he almost missed the sound of his classroom door opening. When he registered the noise Derek’s stomach dropped, and he stood up and rounded the small desk to rest a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Stay here a minute. I’ll be right back.”

He shut the office door tight behind him, partly to make sure whoever was in his classroom didn’t see Stiles, and partly to keep their mingled scents sealed in the room the way they’d been since that first lunch a month ago. 

When he looked up Jennifer Blake was standing in the middle of his classroom, a sweet smile on her face. Derek checked the urge to roll his eyes; even if he couldn’t smell the lust coming off her, she wasn’t exactly subtle about her interest.

“So this is where you hide every day.”

“Well, it is my classroom,” he said, forcing himself not to glance back over his shoulder toward the office where Stiles was waiting. “Is there something I can do for you, Miss Blake?”

“Please, call me Jennifer. Actually I was sort of elected to come and check on you.”

“Check on me?” He repeated, one eyebrow raIsed in question. 

“It’s silly, really,” she said with a musical little laugh any other man might have found charming. But Derek wasn’t interested in charming, even if he didn’t have a mate reading comic books in the next room. “It’s just that you’re new, and some of the teachers were worried that you didn’t feel welcome, since we never see you in the teachers’ lounge for lunch. So I was elected to come extend the invitation.”

“Well, thanks for the invite, but my planning period falls right after lunch, so I’d just as soon use the whole thing to work,” he answered, doing his best to smile politely without seeming like he was inviting more overtures.

For just a second she looked a little crestfallen, but she bounced back almost immediately with another warm smile. “You shouldn’t be working through your lunch, Derek, don’t you know that’s how teachers burn out?”

He thought about pointing out that he hadn’t given her permission to call him by his first name, but it didn’t seem worth the effort. Instead he flashed another tight-lipped smile and edged around her to pull the classroom door open. “I’ll take it under advisement. But for now I have papers to grade so I don’t have to take them home with me, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” she said, lips pursed as she tried to hide her disappointment. Derek could smell it rolling off her in waves, but he did his best not to wrinkle his nose when she brushed just a little too close on her way out the door. “If you change your mind…”

“I know where to find you,” Derek said, then he let the door swing closed.

He waited another few beats, just to make sure she didn’t make up an excuse to come back, then he turned back to his office and Stiles. When he pulled the door open the scent of anxiety spiked, and Derek had to pause and take a breath before he closed the door and sat back down.

“Everything okay?” he asked, frowning at the way Stiles had sort of curled into himself.

“Are you going to get in trouble because I’m in here?” Stiles asked, voice small, and Derek realized he was afraid that he was about to be kicked out of another safe space. 

“No,” Derek said with maybe a little more conviction than was really warranted, but he wasn’t planning to get caught, so everything would be fine. “Obviously we shouldn’t advertise our friendship, but we’re not doing anything wrong, okay?”

Stiles didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded anyway and went back to his lunch. Gone was the smiling boy with the twinkle in his eye from a few minutes ago, though, and Derek wanted to march down to Miss Blake’s classroom and rip out her throat for upsetting his boy.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out to cover Stiles’ hand with his where it was fisted on the edge of the desk. It was the first time Derek had risked touching beyond a hand on his shoulder or a brush of fingers as he handed over part of his lunch, but the contact uncoiled something tight inside of him, and he knew that from that moment on, he’d be looking for reasons to touch.

“Everything’s going to be fine, okay? Besides, I think Miss Blake just wanted an excuse to come in here and stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“That was Miss Blake?” Stiles said, glancing toward the door. Derek couldn’t tell by his tone what that reaction meant, but he slowly forced himself to let go of Stiles’ hand and sit back.

“Yes. Do you have her for English?”

He nodded and looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers as though he was remembering Derek’s touch. “The guys in my class say she’s the prettiest teacher in school.”

Derek did his best not to react to that, because he knew it was unfair to be hurt by a little crush on a pretty teacher when Stiles had no idea what Derek was to him. Boys his age were supposed to have crushes on their teachers, after all, so it was perfectly natural.

“She’s okay, I suppose,” Derek said carefully. “A bit too forward for my taste.”

He forcibly suppressed a shudder at the memory of Kate, the way she’d come on to him when he wasn’t that much older than Stiles, never taken no for an answer even when part of him had wanted to refuse her. He’d known after the fire that he’d have a hard time trusting women who weren’t his sisters for the rest of his life, and that was another reason his little mate was so perfect.

Stiles stole another glance at him, cheeks dusted with a pink flush that made Derek want to reach out and touch again. “Everybody knows she likes you. Some of the guys say you’d be crazy not to go for it.”

It took everything in Derek not to tilt his head back and let out a triumphant howl, because he recognized the scent coming off his boy now. Stiles was _jealous_ at the idea of Derek with someone else, before he even knew that they were meant for each other, and that meant something in him was already recognizing the mate bond.

He wanted to howl for joy, then he wanted to pull Stiles close and mark him so the whole world would know he belonged to Derek. If Stiles was another wolf he could, even as young as he was. But Stiles was human, so all Derek could do was flash a grin and slide the chocolate chip cookies Derek had brought for him across the desk.

“Well I can’t stop them from thinking it, I guess, but that doesn’t make it true.”

“Did she want to have lunch with you?” Stiles asked, timid, as though maybe he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“I think so,” Derek admitted. When Stiles’ shoulders slumped just a little Derek reached out again, swallowing a sigh when his fingers made contact with Stiles’ cheek and he didn’t flinch away. “But it doesn’t matter, because I’m already having lunch with a friend.”

The warm, pleased scent Stiles gave off at that made Derek want to howl all over again, but he contented himself with a small smile at the sight of his mate eating the food Derek had provided him for him as Stiles launched back into another story, this one about the time in third grade when his friend Scott had taken one look at the new girl and fallen head over heels in love.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings if you need them: There is brief nudity in this chapter, but no sexual contact or thoughts.

The rest of the week went by pretty much as usual, until Friday came and there was no Stiles sitting in the back of his World History class. 

He’d noticed Stiles’ anxiety ratcheting up more and more as the days passed since Jennifer nearly caught them, but Derek had just assumed that he was worried about losing another safe space to spend his lunch period. Now that Stiles wasn’t in class he couldn’t help imagining what else could be happening to cause so much anxiety, and he was so distracted with kicking himself for not paying close enough attention that he barely made it through class.

He pictured his little mate being cornered by some of the older boys, teased and maybe even injured, hiding out somewhere for fear the boys would come back to finish what they started. Or worse, hurt enough that he couldn’t even get to help, scared and all alone and thinking no one would even notice he was missing.

It was a struggle to rein in his wolf enough to think logically when the prospect of an injured mate was making it pace and snarl, but he managed to make it to the bell without losing control. Once the last of his students filed out Derek headed to the office, just to make sure Stiles had been officially called in sick so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to tear the building apart looking for him.

When he reached the office there was a line of students and even a couple teachers milling around. Derek scowled at the crowd and pushed through the line of students, headed for the attendance desk. He could hear Finstock arguing with the principal in the background, but he shut out the sound as best he could and looked around for the secretary who handled attendance. 

There was no sign of her, and Derek barely suppressed a growl as he turned to shove his way back through the crowded office and hunt her down. He’d barely gone three steps when he heard Finstock’s voice again, and Derek remembered Stiles complaining about having Finstock first period and how it had to be violating the United Nations Convention Against Torture to force that on him first thing in the morning.

Derek stopped and changed direction, barely registering the fact that Finstock was still grumbling about something as he left the principal’s office and headed for the teachers’ lounge.

“Coach,” Derek said, forcing himself to sound as close to human as he could get when the wolf was this close to the surface. “You’ve got Stiles first period, right?”

“What the hell is a Stiles?” Finstock barked, staring at Derek like he’d sprouted a second head, and Derek barely managed to keep his claws in check, because seriously?

“The Sheriff’s kid. Was he in class this morning?”

“Oh, him,” Finstock said, frowning like he hadn’t bothered to notice whether or not Stiles showed up for school. “God, that kid’s so quiet it’s like teaching a ghost. It gives me the creeps.”

He shuddered and Derek let himself picture gutting the man where he stood. And the thing was, he’d always liked Coach, but at the moment he was having a hard time not killing him just to see if ghosts were actually real.

“But now that you mention it,” Finstock continued before Derek could make a decision one way or the other, “he didn’t show up this morning. Why? Did he skip out on a detention or something?”

“No,” Derek said, doing his best not to actually sag with relief. “I just...we’re supposed to be keeping an eye on him, right? So I wanted to make sure he was really absent and not being bullied somewhere.”

For a few seconds Finstock just looked at him like Derek had lost his mind, then he shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder. “Listen, Hale, I always liked you. You were a hell of a basketball player, whole team went to hell after you left and they never did recover. So I’m going to give you some free advice: _Relax_. These little bastards will eat you alive if they think you actually give a damn about them. Trust me, you don’t want to give them that kind of satisfaction.”

Thankfully he walked away without waiting for an answer, striding down the hall still ranting about the lacrosse budget and the ungrateful bastards who had no idea how much Finstock did for this school. It saved Derek the trouble of tearing out his throat for speaking so callously about his mate, not to mention the mess murdering the lacrosse coach would leave in the hallway.

The rest of the day was a struggle. His wolf paced restlessly, demanding over and over that Derek drop everything and run to the Stilinski house to make sure Stiles was okay. But he couldn’t do that, not without getting himself fired, so Derek ignored the urge to abandon his classes and tear through the woods to Stiles’ neighborhood. When the final bell rang he had no idea how he’d made it through the day, but he didn’t waste any time packing up his things and locking up his classroom.

When he stepped out of the school it was just starting to rain, the air turning cold and the wind picking up to bite at his skin. He hurried to his car and climbed in, then he drove as fast as he dared to the edge of Stiles’ neighborhood. 

By the time he got there the rain was coming down steadily, but he parked his car anyway and made his way through the woods until he reached the Stilinskis’ back yard. He reached out with his hearing, searching for the telltale sound of his boy’s heartbeat, just a little faster than average, but still strong. 

Instead he heard the slow, sleep-steady beat of a different heart, one he’d come to recognize as the Sheriff. Derek frowned as he realized that the Sheriff was home, but his son — who was supposed to be sick — wasn’t in the house. 

It was a risk, especially with the Sheriff home, but Derek scaled the side of the house anyway, hopping down onto the roof outside the room he knew belonged to Stiles. He looked inside to make sure the room was as empty as his senses told him it was, then he pushed the window open and slid inside. 

Instantly he was surrounded by the scent of his mate, but there was a layer of fresh sorrow covering his scent like a thick blanket. Derek swallowed against the smell and slipped out of the room, down the hall to ease the Sheriff’s bedroom door open. The scent of grief nearly choked him, coupled with the heavy stench of stale whiskey. 

He swallowed a growl at the thought of the Sheriff getting drunk and passing out while his son was just down the hall drowning in his own grief. It was tempting to kill the man where he lay, just to get Stiles away from him, but Derek knew that would just make things worse for his mate. Stiles was already grieving for his mother, Derek couldn’t force him to grieve for a father too. 

Instead he backed out of the Sheriff’s room, then he followed the scent of Stiles’ sorrow out of the house and into the rain. It should have been impossible to follow his mate’s scent through the rain, but Derek had a pretty good idea where he’d gone. He was all too familiar with how it felt to lose a parent, after all, and he could guess what must be causing Stiles and his dad to wallow in private misery today. 

He drove slowly on the way to the cemetery, scanning the sidewalks in case Stiles was already on his way back. He couldn’t be sure the rain hadn’t driven him inside somewhere, but he pressed on anyway, pulling up to the cemetery just as the rain really started to come down. 

Any traces of Stiles’ scent were long gone by the time Derek stepped out of his car, but there was a bike propped up against the wrought iron gate, and he wove his way through headstones until he caught sight of a small figure hunched over in front of a pale marble stone. 

The rain was even heavier in this part of town, drenching his little mate and making his clothes stick to his slight figure. He already looked small on a good day, but now, soaked through and curled up on his mother’s grave, he looked impossibly fragile. Derek’s heart thudded in his chest and he knelt down next to Stiles, heedless of the wet grass under his knees as he reached out and curled a hand around the back of Stiles’ head.

When he didn’t even look up at the touch Derek’s heart dropped, and he gathered Stiles to his chest and finally -- _finally_ \-- wrapped his mate in his arms. “Shh,” he whispered when Stiles made a wounded noise against his neck. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay. Let’s get you out of the rain.”

Derek lifted him without any effort at all, pushing up off his knees and holding Stiles close as he headed back to his car. Once he had Stiles settled in the passenger seat Derek crouched down next to him, wiping rain away from his face. “Is that your bike over there?”

The only answer he got was a vague nod, but it was enough for Derek. He fastened the seat belt around his boy before he closed the door, then he picked up the bike and fit it into his trunk. It only took a couple minutes, but when he finally slid into the driver’s seat and found Stiles shivering he wished he’d thought to turn on the heater right away.

Derek swallowed a curse and started the car, turning the heat on full blast before he backed out of the lot and headed for his loft. The thought that he should probably take Stiles back to his dad floated into Derek’s head, but he dismissed it as quickly as it occurred to him. He wasn’t going to take a grieving kid back to a house with no one to look after him except for a drunk father. Derek had no idea what the Sheriff was like when he was drunk, but he wasn’t willing to take the risk when Stiles was soaked through and practically catatonic.

He pulled up in front of his building, thankful once again for the lack of neighbors. He could only imagine what people would say if they spotted the new high school teacher lifting the Sheriff’s son out of a car and carrying him into the building as though he was a baby. Luckily the same rain that was probably going to give Stiles pneumonia was keeping everyone else inside, so there was no one around to spot them as they went inside.

He carried Stiles straight up the stairs to the top floor, being careful not to jostle him when he unlocked his door and slid it open. He didn’t bother shutting it behind them, just carried Stiles into the bathroom and set him down carefully on the closed toilet seat. Through it all Stiles didn’t make a sound, not even to ask how Derek had found him or where he’d been brought. 

He seemed willing to go along with whatever Derek did, whether because their mate bond let him know he was safe or if he was just too consumed by grief to know what was happening, Derek couldn’t tell. It was terrifying, thinking of who might have come along before Derek showed up and taken Stiles to do who knows what. But he was here with Derek, and he was safe, and Derek just had to keep reminding himself of that. 

“We need to get you warmed up, okay?” he said. “I’m going to draw you a bath, then I’ll get some dry clothes for you to change into.”

Stiles didn’t react to his words, but he didn’t argue when Derek started the bath and then turned back to Stiles and started pulling off his wet clothes. His red hoodie was first, too thin for the chill in the air, then the flannel he wore under it. His t-shirt clung to him like a second skin, and it took a few tries before Derek managed to work the wet fabric over his head. 

Through it all Stiles didn’t react, didn’t move at all except to shiver when the cool air hit his skin. Derek paused and knelt in front of him, hands on the soaked denim covering Stiles’ thighs. “I’m going to take your jeans off now, but I want you to know that you’re safe here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

When Stiles didn’t answer Derek swallowed a sigh, then he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ forehead. It was probably a bit too much, but Stiles seemed so out of it that Derek felt it was worth the risk to offer that small bit of comfort to both of them. 

Getting Stiles out of his jeans was a little tricky, but he managed to inch the wet denim down along with Stiles’ briefs until finally he was naked and shivering in Derek’s bathroom. He kept his gaze focused on Stiles’ face as much as possible, and when he was finally undressed Derek picked him up and carefully lowered him into the warm bath.

Once Stiles was submerged in warm water up to his chest Derek ran a hand over his hair, letting it curve around the back of his skull for a moment before he stood up. “I’m going to go get you some dry clothes, then I’ll throw yours in the dryer. I’ll be right back.”

He paused long enough to scoop up Stiles’ wet clothes, then he headed for the washer and dryer tucked in a closet just off his small kitchen. He stripped off his own wet clothes and tossed them in the dryer too before he made his way back upstairs to his bedroom. 

Derek didn’t like leaving his mate alone even for a few minutes, not while he was so distressed. But he needed something to wear once he got out of the bath, and Derek knew he needed to put on some clothes too. The last thing he wanted was to scare Stiles, to make him think Derek was only interested in him because he wanted to take advantage of his loneliness. 

So he ignored his wolf’s insistence that skin to skin contact was the best way to bond and pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt before he found his smallest pajama pants and a hoodie he knew would dwarf his little mate. Derek’s clothes would be too big, but they’d warm him up, and they’d leave Stiles blanketed in Derek’s scent. Just the thought made his wolf yip in delight as he hurried back to the bathroom to check on Stiles. 

He was still sitting just where Derek left him, knees up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them like he was holding himself together. It broke Derek’s heart to see him like this, so small in a way he hadn’t been since those first few weeks of school. He wanted to ask what Stiles had been doing out in the cemetery all alone, why he hadn’t been in school and what had happened with his father. 

Instead he knelt next to the tub and reached for a clean washcloth, running warm water over his shoulders and the back of his neck. He cleaned rain and tears and little flecks of mud from riding his bike in the rain off Stiles’ face, then he ran a hand over Stiles’ scalp again. He kept up a soothing pattern of fingers through his boy’s short hair until he finally stopped shivering, then Derek sat back on his heels.

“What do you think? Ready to get out? I’ve got some hot cocoa around here somewhere.”

He wasn’t really expecting an answer, so he was surprised when his mate nodded and let Derek pull the plug to drain the tub. Stiles stayed quiet while Derek lifted him out of the tub and dried him off, once again keeping his gaze focused on his boy’s amber eyes as much as possible. 

Stiles stepped into the sweatpants Derek held out for him without argument, then he stood docile and quiet while Derek rolled up the cuffs several times. The sleeves of the hoodie got the same treatment, then Derek ushered Stiles out of the bathroom and back down to the living room to bundle him onto the couch.

He shook the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped Stiles in it, tucking him in and handing him the remote. It was tempting to lean in and press his lips to Stiles’ forehead again, but his boy was a little more aware now, and Derek didn’t want to risk scaring him away.

So he settled for squeezing the hand holding the remote in a loose grip, then he straightened up and took a few steps backwards. “You find something to watch and I’ll go see about that cocoa, okay?”

Stiles didn’t answer, but Derek didn’t really expect him to. He crossed to the small kitchen and put some water on to boil, then he started pulling ingredients out of his fridge to make Stiles a sandwich. It wasn’t much of a dinner, but he had a feeling it was more than Stiles had eaten that day. 

He was pouring the contents of a cocoa packet into a mug when he heard the TV click on, then the sound of Stiles flipping through channels. It didn’t mean Stiles was suddenly fine, not by a long shot. But he would be, Derek knew, no matter how long it took, because he’d stop at nothing to make sure of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm so slow. I really wish I was a faster writer.

It took nearly an hour of cartoons and two cups of hot cocoa before Stiles finally glanced over at Derek. It was just a shy, quick look before he ducked his head again, but it was a sign of life, and it made Derek breathe a little easier.

“It’s my mom’s birthday.”

Derek nodded, because that was a pretty good explanation for what Stiles was doing in the cemetery in the rain. “Why were you there alone?”

There was a little hitch in Stiles’ breath, and he wormed one of his hands out of the blanket to wipe at his eyes. Derek reached over without thinking and rested his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, hoping that even though he didn’t have a wolf’s instincts, the touch would give him some comfort.

“My dad was supposed to have the day off so we could go together,” Stiles said, voice small, but he leaned into the touch like he didn’t realize he was doing it, and Derek bit back a smile. “But he got called out last night and didn’t get home until early morning, I guess. When I woke up there was half a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table and my dad was passed out. I waited for him to wake up, but he just...didn’t.”

He seemed exhausted by the end of his speech, slumping over a little in Derek’s direction, so Derek just scooped him up and pulled him close. He tucked Stiles into his side, pulling the blanket tighter around him to keep him warm as he wrapped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders to hold him close.

“I’m sorry you had to do that alone.”

Stiles sniffled and nodded against his shoulder, but he didn’t try to pull away, and Derek’s heart swelled in his chest. 

“How’d you know where to find me?”

“My family is buried there too,” Derek answered, telling himself he didn’t have to feel guilty for lying since it was technically true. The fact that he hadn’t been to visit his parents’ graves once since he’d been back didn’t really matter. “I stopped by on my way home and saw you.”

“In the rain?” Stiles asked, suspicion in his voice, and Derek had to smile, because his mate was definitely as clever as Peter.

“It wasn’t raining that hard when I left the school,” Derek said, his smile growing when Stiles leaned back to look at him. “Besides, it adds to the ambience, don’t you think?”

That got him an eye roll, but Stiles dropped his head back down onto Derek’s shoulder, so he was going to call it a victory. 

They were quiet for a little while after that, the only sound in the loft the murmur of the television and the steady beat of Stiles’ heart. Derek listened to it while it slowed as though Stiles was falling asleep. He knew he should wake Stiles up and take him home, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it when Stiles was warm and safe tucked against him, sighing quietly as though he was truly relaxed for the first time in who knew how long.

He thought Stiles was asleep, so it took him by surprise when a soft voice murmured, “Thanks for coming to get me.”

Derek didn’t answer, mostly because he wasn’t sure Stiles knew exactly what he was saying. It sounded like he knew Derek had been looking for him, and that he didn’t mind the idea of his history teacher seeking him out and taking him home to care for him as though they were...something. Stiles couldn’t know what all of this meant, but it was clear now that at least some part of him was feeling the pull of their mating bond.

He knew he had to be careful. He couldn’t just spring the idea of werewolves and mates on Stiles; he was still so young, even if he was smart far beyond his years. No matter what else he was, Stiles was just a lonely kid putting all his trust in the first adult to show him any positive attention since his mom died. Derek wouldn’t betray that trust, and he wouldn’t do anything to risk being separated from Stiles for good.

Derek swallowed a sigh and turned far enough to press a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head. A sleepy murmur was his only response, but Derek smiled anyway and settled a little more into the couch and Stiles’ scent.

The next thing Derek knew he was blinking slowly into awareness, taking in the much darker room and the warm body coming back to consciousness next to him. Stiles sighed into Derek’s chest where he’d slid down to cuddle into him in his sleep, and Derek smiled and ran a hand down his boy’s back. It was tempting to slide his fingers under the sweatshirt Stiles was bundled in, just to feel the warmth of his skin again, but Derek knew better.

Instead he kept up a soothing pattern on Stiles’ back while Derek waited for him to wake up, frowning for a few seconds before he seemed to remember where he was. When he took in their position Stiles’ eyes went wide, and Derek forced himself not to drag him back when Stiles pulled away.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Derek said. He glanced toward the tall windows along the living room wall, taking in the red sky and the quickly sinking sun. “It’s getting pretty late, though. Your dad’s probably worried.”

The noise Stiles made could have meant anything, but Derek was pretty sure it was disagreement. He didn’t look happy about the prospect of going home, and taking him back to his father was the last thing Derek wanted to do, but he knew they didn’t have a choice.

So he forced himself up off the couch, away from the intoxicating combination of their scents and across the loft to fetch Stiles’ clothes from the dryer. When he got back to the living room Stiles was folding the blanket, and he took his clothes without comment and headed to the bathroom to change. 

The fact that he remembered where the bathroom was made Derek wonder what else he remembered, if he’d really been as out of it as he seemed or if he remembered Derek undressing him and kissing his forehead. Then again, if Stiles did remember, it didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable around Derek, so he decided not to worry about it.

When Stiles reappeared again wearing his own clothes, arms wrapped around himself like he was trying to hold himself together, Derek had to fight back the urge to grab him and run far and fast so no one, not even Laura, could find them. But he knew he couldn’t do that to Stiles, that he wouldn’t thank Derek for it if he did, so instead he closed the distance between them and took back the clothes Derek had lent him. 

He set the sweatpants down on the table in front of the windows, then he shook out the hoodie and pulled it back over Stiles’ head. “It’s still pretty damp out there. Why don’t you hang onto this for a while.”

Instead of answering Stiles just slid his arms into the sleeves, then he huddled down into it like he was trying to disappear inside the fabric. Wrapped in the safety of his mate’s scent, and none of the humans in town would know, but Derek’s wolf preened all the same. 

The hoodie was an old one left over from high school, the Beacon Hills basketball logo faded on the back. That meant it wouldn’t raise eyebrows if anyone around town saw Stiles wearing it, though the Sheriff would probably have questions if he spotted it. Then again, the Sheriff didn’t seem to pay attention to much when it came to his son, so Derek determined not to worry too much about it. 

He reached out and tugged on one of the hoodie strings, smiling when Stiles blushed and stole a glance at him through long eyelashes. “If you need to, you can call me, okay?”

For a few beats Stiles just stared at him, wide-eyed and a little skittish, like maybe he was waiting for the punchline. “Why?”

“Why what?” Derek asked, frowning at the anxiety wafting off his mate. 

“Why are you being so nice to me? School’s one thing, but this…” Stiles trailed off with a vague gesture Derek assumed was meant to encompass his apartment and his clothes and the entire afternoon. 

“We’re friends, right?” Derek answered, though it felt like a lie to keep even part of the truth from him. He wanted to tell Stiles everything, about what he was and what Stiles meant to him. But he couldn’t take the risk of scaring him off, not when Stiles was still so skittish, so he settled for part of the truth instead. “You seem like you could use someone in your corner, and so can I. So if you need anything, like a ride somewhere or someone to talk to or even just somewhere safe to go, you can call me.”

Stiles nodded and looked up at him through his eyelashes again. “Thanks, Mister Hale.”

“How about you call me Derek when we’re not in school,” Derek said, smiling when Stiles blushed again and nodded. “Do you have your phone with you? I can add my number before I take you home.”

“Oh, uh, my dad won’t let me have a cell phone. He says I don’t need one and it’ll just distract me.”

Derek didn’t point out that a cell phone would have come in handy when Stiles was stuck in the rain that afternoon. He kept his opinions about all the time Stiles spent alone to himself, too. Instead he crossed to the small kitchen and dug through a drawer until he found a pen and a piece of paper. He jotted down his number and crossed back to Stiles, tucking it into the pocket of his hoodie before he gently gripped Stiles’ shoulders. 

“I mean it. You can call whenever you want.”

Stiles nodded again, sniffling a little, but his hand crept into the pocket where Derek had tucked his number, as though making sure it was really there, and his scent went sweet and pleased. “Okay.”

That was the end of the conversation, but Stiles followed him out of the loft and down the stairs to his car easily enough. Derek spent the drive back to the Stilinski house coming up with a story for the Sheriff just in case he was waiting when they got there, but judging by the slow, steady beat of a heartbeat when they pulled into the driveway, he was still dead to the world. 

_Father of the year,_ Derek thought to himself, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he smiled at Stiles one more time, then he went around to the trunk and got his bike out of the car. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said when he climbed out of the passenger seat to stand in the driveway, one hand on the bike and the other still in his pocket. Derek could just make out the sound of paper crinkling as Stiles’ fingers closed around his phone number, and his heart swelled at the knowledge that his mate was guarding the direct line to Derek so carefully. 

“Any time,” Derek answered. He tilted his head up as though he was looking at the clouds, doing his best not to flare his nostrils as he scented the air for any traces of an oncoming storm. “You better get inside before it starts to rain again.”

“Yeah.” Stiles paused, glancing up at the clouds, and Derek could tell he was stalling. He didn’t want to say goodbye any more than Derek did, not when it felt like something had shifted between them in the past few hours. Something important had happened, and Derek wanted to reach out, to pull Stiles into a hug and scent him again so the whole world would know where he belonged. 

But it was enough of a risk standing in his driveway where the neighbors could see, so Derek kept his hands to himself and took a couple steps backwards. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Bye Mister...Derek,” Stiles corrected himself, blushing a little at the sound of Derek’s name on his lips. “See you at school.”

School was two whole days away, and Derek really didn’t want to wait that long. But he didn’t have a choice, so he just smiled and waited for Stiles to let himself into the house, then he got in his car and drove back to his empty loft.


	7. Chapter 7

The weekend dragged more than normal, and his loft felt a little more empty than it ever had before, but somehow Derek managed to make it to Monday morning without losing his mind and kidnapping Stiles. He still stopped by to check on him, in between running errands and visiting his uncle, but Derek was careful to keep to the woods. 

He didn’t dare drive the Camaro through the neighborhood and run the risk of someone seeing it there two days in a row and jumping to all the right conclusions. So he ran through town and into the preserve the way he’d done plenty of times before, then he leaned against a tree just beyond the Stilinskis’ back yard and listened to the sound of Stiles’ heart beating for a while.

It wasn’t nearly enough for his wolf to be satisfied, but it got him through to Monday morning, and that was all that mattered. By the time his lunch break rolled around he was actually nervous, and it wasn’t until Stiles slid into the chair next to his desk that he breathed a little easier. 

Keeping his hands to himself was another challenge he hadn’t been prepared for, but Derek managed by reaching into the thermal bag he’d packed that morning and taking out two containers of still-warm chili. He pushed one across the desk toward Stiles, then he slid a spoon and some homemade cornbread over as well.

“Here, I thought you might like a little change from your usual today,” Derek said, hoping he wasn’t overstepping. The last thing he wanted to do was send Stiles running, but after spending an entire afternoon holding him and caring for him, Derek couldn’t bear the thought of watching him eat another depressing sandwich and bruised apple.

He was pretty sure the reason Stiles ate the same thing every day was because it was all he knew how to make. Whether his father ever gave any thought to what his son was doing for lunch Derek didn’t know, but judging by what he’d observed of the Sheriff so far, he had his doubts. Besides, spending time cooking for his mate had settled Derek’s wolf a little during the long, restless weekend, so even if Stiles didn’t eat it, it was worth the effort.

“Did you make this?” Stiles asked, but he reached out with a careful hand to pick up the spoon and poke at the chili.

“I had a little extra time yesterday, and I used to cook a lot with my sisters. I guess I was feeling nostalgic,” Derek said, smiling when Stiles glanced up at him. “I tried not to make it too spicy, just in case.”

He didn’t mention calling his sister to harass her for their mother’s chili recipe, or the special trip he’d made to buy a thermal bag and containers for transporting soup. Those kinds of details didn’t matter, not when Derek would go so much further to make his mate happy. 

Stiles nodded, attention already back on the chili, and judging by the way he was looking at it, Derek had a feeling he hadn’t had a home cooked meal in a while. “Thanks.”

He tucked into his food without another word, and for a few minutes Derek just watched him eat. His wolf preened at the way Stiles dug into the chili, cheeks a little flushed and his fingers slick from breaking off pieces of cornbread to dip in the bowl. Derek realized it was strange to sit there, his own lunch untouched, while he watched Stiles eat. He knew it, but there was no one here to judge him but Stiles, and he was way too interested in his food to notice. So Derek let himself bask in the satisfaction of providing for his mate, of taking care of him and doing his part to keep him happy and healthy.

“I have something else for you,” Derek said when Stiles slowed down a little. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a prepaid cell phone, sliding it across the desk to rest next to Stiles’ free hand. “I programmed my number into it already. It’s not as fancy as some of the phones your classmates have, but it sends texts and makes calls, so you can get ahold of me whenever you want.”

For a few seconds Stiles just blinked down at the phone, like maybe he was expecting it to disappear. When it didn’t, he reached out slowly and closed his hand around it, dragging it close enough to turn on the screen and peer down at the few pre-installed apps. It only took him a second to find the contacts and pull up the list, as though maybe he didn’t believe Derek had really added his number until he saw it with his own eyes.

“Why?”

The way he said it, shoulders a little hunched and eyes trained on the desk in front of him, told Derek exactly what he was asking. Of course he was suspicious; his father was a cop, and he’d probably gotten lectures on every type of danger out there, including adults who showed him the wrong kind of interest. 

He wanted to tell Stiles the truth, to tell him about werewolves and mates and the meaning of that pull he felt and couldn’t explain. Derek wanted to tell him that Stiles would always be safe with him, that he didn’t have to worry about anything bad happening in Derek’s presence, because he couldn’t hurt Stiles if he wanted to. And he never, ever wanted to. 

But that wasn’t a conversation he was comfortable having in the little office behind his classroom, where there were too many people who could walk in while he was distracted or worse yet, see Stiles fleeing his classroom in terror before Derek could get him calmed down. He didn’t think Stiles would react badly, but there was no way to know for sure, so Derek was determined to wait as long as he could before telling him the whole truth.

“I know your father said no already, and normally I would respect his decision. But it seems as though maybe he’s still having a little trouble getting used to the way things have changed for both of you, and I don’t want to find you stranded out in the rain catching your death again. So if you’re comfortable with it, you can take this phone and if you need a ride or a friend or you just want someone to talk to, you can call me. Okay?”

For a few long moments Stiles kept staring at the phone, but finally he pulled it toward him and clutched it to his chest. A tiny nod was the only answer Derek got, but it was more than enough for him. He thought that was the end of the conversation, and he was about to reach for the container of brownies he’d made over the weekend when Stiles spoke again, his voice so small Derek almost didn’t catch it even with his advanced hearing.

“He doesn’t mean it.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he was talking about. Derek had suspected from almost the moment they met that something wasn’t right, and after spending a little time outside the Stilinski house listening, he knew Stiles was definitely being neglected at the very least. Whatever else was happening in that house he couldn’t be positive, but the possibilities made his fangs itch to drop and he curled his hands into fists against his thighs to keep his claws out of sight.

“Does he hurt you?”

At the question Stiles’ head shot up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He shook his head so vigorously Derek was almost sure he was lying, but when he opened his mouth to deny it, there was no lie in his heartbeat. “No, he just...he forgets, sometimes.”

Derek knew what it was the Sheriff was forgetting. He was forgetting that he had a kid, that life didn’t just stop for everyone when he lost his wife. He was forgetting that he wasn’t the only one in that house who was mourning, that no matter how much he wanted to give up, there were still people counting on him. And sure, Derek felt for him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted to go beat the hell out of the man until he remembered he had a kid at home who needed him.

After double checking to make sure his nails were still blunt and entirely human, he carefully unclenched one fist and reached across his desk to rest a hand on Stiles’ forearm. He squeezed just a little, just enough to remind his little mate that he was there and he wasn’t going anywhere. “You can call me anytime, no matter what, okay? Even if it’s the middle of the night. You don’t have to be alone anymore, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded and looked down at the phone again, his cheeks still flushed in a way that made Derek want to touch his skin and feel how warm it was. Instead he let go of Stiles’ arm and reached into the lunch bag for the brownie container, pulling the top off and pushing it into the center of the desk.

“I made these too,” Derek said, flashing a smile when Stiles looked up at him. “They’re from a box, though, so I can’t really take much credit.”

It got him a little huff of laughter as Stiles reached out and took a brownie, bits of chocolate clinging to his lips when he took a bite. Derek tried not to stare, because Stiles was still a kid, mate or not, and Derek had just promised that he was safe here. If his mother was still his alpha she’d probably handle the situation by letting them spend time together in supervised settings, probably bringing in the Sheriff on the secret too so he wouldn’t do anything rash if he happened to figure out just how much of an interest Derek had taken in Stiles.

If his parents were here that would be possible, but they were gone and all he had was an alpha on the other side of the country, and a catatonic uncle. He had no idea what Peter would do if he were still himself. Maybe he’d call Laura and tell her what was going on the way Derek should have the moment Stiles walked into his classroom. Or maybe he’d be on Derek’s side; maybe he’d be the chaperone Derek’s parents couldn’t be, making sure they were both safe while running interference with Laura so she didn’t catch on to what was happening.

Then again, there was always the chance that Peter would wake up and hate Derek for his part in what happened to their family. He’d learned to stop blaming himself, mostly, or at least to let go of enough guilt to allow himself to look to the future instead of forcing himself to dwell in the pain of the past. His sisters had been responsible for getting him to move forward that much, but he had no idea if Peter would see Derek as a victim the way Laura and Cora did, or if he’d blame Derek for everything he’d lost.

He knew Laura assumed that was the reason he’d come back to Beacon Hills after college, to pay penance to their uncle after leaving him to suffer alone for six years. And that was part of it; Derek never felt good about leaving Peter behind, even though he knew Laura was barely holding on as a new alpha barely out of high school. She’d had enough to deal with keeping Derek and Cora afloat, so when they’d run scared to the other side of the country, they’d had to leave their uncle behind.

Six years was long enough to abandon their pack, though, at least from Derek’s point of view. He understood why Laura didn’t want to come back, and he understood her confusion when he told her his plans to return to Beacon Hills. He’d thought it was guilt and the pack bond with Peter guiding him, but now that he’d met Stiles, he knew exactly what had drawn him home.

“My mom had a really good recipe for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies,” Stiles said, breaking Derek out of his train of thought. “I used to help her make them, but then she got sick. I still have the recipe.”

“Well maybe we could make them together sometime,” Derek said, and if his heart tripped over itself when Stiles graced him with a shy smile, nobody had to know.

The rest of their lunch was filled with stories of Stiles helping his mother in the kitchen, and Derek talking about all the ways he’d avoided helping when he was Stiles’ age. It was a little bittersweet for Derek to talk about his mom, and he could tell from Stiles’ scent that he was feeling the same. But it was good for both of them, he knew, and at least they both understood how it felt.

When the bell rang Stiles tucked his new phone carefully into his backpack, treating it like it was some kind of prize, and Derek’s heart tripped over itself again. He stood up and rounded his desk to let Stiles out of the room the same way he always did, but this time instead of pulling open the office door and walking out ahead of him, Stiles turned toward him and darted forward, wrapping his arms around Derek’s middle in a clumsy but tight hug.

It barely took a second for Derek to respond, heart swelling as he wrapped his own arms around Stiles and pressed a hand to the back of his neck, leaving his scent there even though he knew there were no other supernatural creatures in the school to tell Stiles had been marked.

“Thank you,” Stiles mumbled into his chest, then he let go and darted away as quickly as he’d come, slipping out of the little office and across the classroom to the door. Derek just had time to catch a hint of his flushed cheeks when he glanced back briefly, and Derek raised a hand to wave as the warm scent of hope burst in the air between them.

A second later Stiles was gone, slipping into the crowd of students and leaving Derek to try and shake off his own giddy sense of joy long enough to prepare for his next class.


	8. Chapter 8

Two weeks before Thanksgiving Jennifer cornered Derek on his way out of the office. He was still avoiding the teachers’ lounge, ducking her in the corridors whenever he spotted her and doing his best not to stay after school long enough to run into her. But today he’d had to give detention to a couple sophomores who wouldn’t settle down, and that meant he was still there long after most of the students had gone home.

He’d only stopped by the office long enough to drop off his signed detention slips, but apparently that was long enough for Jennifer to spot him. He swallowed a sigh at the way she blatantly leaned into him, reminding himself that he couldn’t sink his claws into a coworker if he wanted to keep his job.

“Derek! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I’ve been in my classroom all day, Miss Blake,” he said, stepping around her to pick up the contents of his mailbox.

“Honestly, how many times have I asked you to call me Jennifer?” she said, the coy note in her voice making his skin crawl. 

She didn’t look a thing like Kate, but there was something about her that put Derek in mind of the woman who’d destroyed his entire world. Maybe it was the way she played at innocence when it was clear she was just waiting for the opportunity to sink her teeth into him. Whatever her motives, he wasn’t interested, and the sooner she figured that out the happier he’d be. 

“I have no idea,” he answered, not bothering to fake politeness. Instead he turned and walked toward the exit, rolling his eyes when he heard Jennifer’s heels clicking as she hurried to follow.

“Well, I’m glad I finally caught up with you,” she said, her footsteps picking up when Derek didn’t slow down. “Since you don’t have any family in town, I wanted to ask what you were doing for Thanksgiving.”

The cavalier mention of his dead family erased any lingering guilt Derek might have felt over being rude to a colleague, even if she couldn’t take a hint. Maybe it didn’t occur to her how hurtful it would be; he knew she hadn’t grown up here, she’d told him herself when he first moved back and she tried to bond with him over being outsiders. But Jennifer was nothing if not a gossip, and people were always eager to tell the story of his family tragedy, so he knew she’d heard it more than once.

“I’ll be spending the weekend with my sisters.”

“Oh,” Jennifer said, faltering a little at the news. “So you’re flying all the way to the east coast? That will be exciting.”

The truth was Derek was sort of dreading it. Not seeing his sisters - though he wasn’t sure how he was going to hide the fact that he’d found his mate from his alpha - but the thought of traveling during the busiest travel weekend of the year made him want to cry. If he thought there was any chance of spending even part of the weekend with Stiles he’d cancel his plans in a heartbeat, but not even the Sheriff could blow off his kid on one of the biggest family holidays of the year, could he?

“That’s too bad,” Jennifer was saying, though Derek only half listened as he headed out of the school and toward his car. “I host a little dinner every year for the singles on the staff, and I was going to invite you to join us.”

“Thanks anyway,” he said as he swung his car door open. 

“Well if your plans change…” Jennifer called after him as he slammed his door shut. He drowned out the rest of her sentence with his engine, then he backed out of his space and pulled out of the school parking lot before she could think of another reason to stop him. 

He was halfway home when his cell phone beeped with a new text notification, and Derek forced himself not to pull his phone out and check it while he was still driving. Cora texted him every once in a while, mostly when she was mad at Laura, but for the most part if he got a text it was from Stiles. 

There hadn’t been that many so far, Derek suspected because Stiles was trying not to bother him too much, even though Derek always got back to him as quickly as he could. He waited until he pulled into the lot outside his building and cut the engine before he took his phone out, smiling to himself when he saw Stiles’ name. 

_r u still at the school? detention ran way late and my dad cant come get me_

Derek frowned down at his phone for a second, wondering who’d given Stiles a detention and then kept him so late. It was nearly sunset, and if Stiles tried to walk home it would be dark long before he got there. 

_I can be there in ten. Can you walk down past the lacrosse field and I’ll meet you by the bleachers?_

_ok_

That was the only answer he got, so Derek started the car again and headed back the way he came. He drove faster than he should, pulling over in the neighborhood on the other side of the woods behind the lacrosse field. He looked around when he got out of his car to make sure there was no one watching him from any of the nearby houses, then he slipped into the woods and headed for the school. 

He wasn’t crazy about asking Stiles to walk even this far on his own, but it wasn’t as though Derek could just pull up in front of the school and pick him up. Even if Jennifer wasn’t still lurking around, there was a chance of the office staff coming out and seeing him picking up a student. There was whoever had given Stiles detention, too, and Coach was surely somewhere terrorizing his team members, hopefully away from the field where they wouldn’t be around to terrorize Stiles.

The thought made him hurry even faster, but when he broke the tree line Stiles was there, sitting on the third bleacher up with his backpack perched next to him and his phone clutched in one hand. Derek reached out with all his senses to make sure they were really alone before he crossed to the bleachers, climbing up to stop in front of Stiles and smile down at him.

“Hi,” he said, his heart skipping at the way Stiles’ cheeks flushed when he looked up to find Derek grinning at him.

“Hi. Sorry you had to come back,” Stiles answered. 

He stood up and reached for his backpack, but Derek got there before him, picking it up and looping one strap over his shoulder. With his other hand he reached out and gripped Stiles’ shoulder, fixing him with a serious look.

“I told you, whatever you need, any time you need it. I meant it, okay?”

For a few seconds Stiles just looked at him, eyes narrowed a little like maybe he didn’t think he should believe Derek. But Derek knew it was going to take time for Stiles to trust him completely, especially when he didn’t know the whole truth, so he was happy to give Stiles’ shoulder another comforting squeeze and stare back at him impassively until Stiles blinked and nodded.

“Great,” Derek said, his smile returning as he climbed back down the bleachers. “My car’s just through the woods, come on.”

To his credit, Stiles followed him without so much as a moment’s hesitation, so at least he trusted Derek enough not to worry that he was going to be dragged into the woods and murdered. In fact, the further into the trees the got the closer Stiles pressed, and Derek’s wolf preened at the knowledge that his mate trusted Derek to keep them safe even if he didn’t understand why.

“Sorry to make you hike all the way out here,” Derek said, glancing over his shoulder to smile at Stiles. “Miss Blake was hanging around the office after school and I didn’t want to run the risk that she’d still be around and jump to the wrong conclusions if she saw us together.”

“What’d she want?” 

“Hmm?” Derek murmured, reaching out automatically and catching Stiles by the elbow when he stumbled over a tree root. Derek frowned as he looked around and realized how dark it must be to human eyes in the trees, so he slid his hand down Stiles’ arm to thread their fingers together. It wasn’t really a conscious thought, but it felt so right that Derek had to swallow his grin when Stiles didn’t pull away. “Oh, she wanted to invite me to some lonely hearts Thanksgiving thing, I guess. Like I don’t see enough of all of them at school, the last thing I want to do is spend my free time with other teachers, listening to them gossip about the students.”

“What do they say?” Stiles asked as they stepped out of the woods into the neighborhood where Derek had parked his car. There were no other heartbeats around, so Derek took a chance and held onto Stiles’ hand until they reached the Camaro.

“They don’t say anything interesting. Just which students are failing, who got propositioned by someone who needs a passing grade, whether or not anyone’s dating a parent. Harris likes to make sure everyone in the room knows how smart he thinks he is, and Miss Blake likes to pretend the entire lacrosse team’s in love with her.”

Stiles made a noise that could have been a laugh, but his scent went a little damp, like maybe he was thinking about Miss Blake and what the other kids said about her interest in Derek. He squeezed the hand still clasped in his, smiling when Stiles looked over at him, then he let go and unlocked the car so he could open the passenger door for Stiles.

Once they were in the car he started the engine, but he didn’t pull away from the curb. Instead he turned to face his mate, taking a second to breathe in his comforting scent before he spoke again. “Who gave you detention?”

“Mr. Harris,” Stiles answered, his scent spiking with something close enough to fear this time to make Derek’s wolf snarl. “He hates me, but I don’t know why, and I need an A in his class or I won’t get into Harvard, let alone get a scholarship.”

By the end of the sentence Stiles’ voice had raised nearly a full octave in pitch, his heart beating too fast and his breath coming more quickly than it had a few minutes ago. Derek reached out without thinking and pressed his hand to the back of his boy’s neck, swallowing a relieved sigh when he seemed to calm down a little just from the touch.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, fingers stroking along Stiles’ skin. “Don’t worry about Harris anymore, alright? He just hates his job and he’s disappointed with his life, and he’s taking it out on you because he knows you’re still a kid and you’re already a thousand times smarter than him. But he’s not going to bother you anymore, and he’s definitely not going to get away with grading you down because he’s a petty asshole.”

Those were promises Derek wasn’t exactly sure he could keep. Sure, he could corner Harris and scare the literal shit out of him, maybe even run him out of town. But if Harris was as dumb and arrogant as Derek suspected, he might just report Derek for harassment, and that would bring the kind of attention he didn’t need. Still, he wasn’t going to stand by and watch anyone bully his mate, especially not a teacher, so Derek was going to do _something_.

When Stiles nodded he pulled his hand away from his neck and reached for his seatbelt. Once they were both buckled in he eased the car away from the curb, keeping to the speed limit so he wouldn’t get pulled over while he had the Sheriff’s kid in his passenger seat. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Stiles yet, though, and from the scent of anxiety that ramped up a little more as they got closer to Stiles’ neighborhood, he didn’t want to go home either.

“Is your dad waiting for you?”

Stiles shook his head, still staring out the window. “He’s working on a big case, that’s why I couldn’t call him.”

“Well I’ve got some leftover lasagna for dinner. It’s pretty good, and the company’s not so bad, if you want to come over for a little while.”

“The lasagna you brought on Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” Derek answered, doing his best to stifle a grin at the memory of Stiles digging into his mom’s lasagna recipe. He’d definitely enjoyed it, and Derek could tell Stiles wanted to say yes. “I’ve still got some of those lemon bars too.”

He should have felt guilty about basically bribing Stiles to come home with him, except he knew the alternative was to send Stiles home to an empty house where he’d probably make a depressing sandwich for dinner and eat alone in his room. At least this way he got a decent meal and a little company before he had to spend the rest of his night alone, so Derek didn’t bother to hide his smile when Stiles said, “I guess I could come for a little while.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and letting me know what you think. This is a fun one to write, so I'm glad other people are enjoying it. I have a lot planned so this fic will either become a series, or be really, really long. Meanwhile, Derek's slowly getting creepier. It's a good look for him.

Derek waited until he was seated opposite Stiles on the couch, dinner plates balanced on both their laps and thinking he should probably invest in a table, before he finally asked the question that had been on his mind since he brought Siles home. 

“Harvard, huh?”

Stiles nodded and swallowed the mouthful of lasagna he was working on before he answered. “Yeah, I mean I’ve thought about Columbia too, because their medical school is really good, but New York seems kind of scary.”

It took a lot for Derek to stop himself from telling Stiles he didn’t have to be alone if he picked Columbia. In fact, it would be easier for both of them to be right there where their pack could support them, but Stiles didn’t know about any of that yet. There was no question in Derek’s mind that he’d follow Stiles wherever he went for college, even back to the overwhelming crush of city life. He’d known since that first day, when he caught the scent of _mate_ and finally understood why he’d come back to Beacon Hills in the first place, that he wouldn’t be staying if his mate planned to leave. They had more than three years to work out the details, though, so there was no rush to tell Stiles everything. 

“Medical school is a pretty big commitment,” he said instead. “Is that what your dad wants you to do?”

Stiles shook his head and swallowed another huge bite of lasagna. “He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“About where you want to go to college?” Derek asked, frowning at the thought that the Sheriff couldn’t work up even that much enthusiasm for his own kid. 

“No, about my mom.”

Derek’s frown was more puzzled this time as he tried to work out what Stiles meant. His file hadn’t said much about his mother’s death, but it did mention a long illness. “So you want to be a doctor to…”

“Find a cure for dementia,” Stiles finished for him. He stole a glance at Derek, looking away with a flush as soon as their eyes met. “The kind my mom had kills people really young, but if I can find a cure for the other kinds too then I will.”

“That’s pretty admirable.”

Derek offered him a warm smile that made Stiles blush even brighter and look back down at his plate, but Derek could smell the happiness rolling off him at the approval. It made him even angrier at Stiles’ father, because he should be proud of his son for turning his grief into something positive, not wallowing in his own grief while his kid was drowning. 

“I guess I could always go to Brown, they sent me a letter and an application already. UCLA did too, but I don’t think I want to stay in California.”

Derek didn’t have to ask him why. He and his sisters had run after the fire, and it had taken him years to come back to their territory even knowing Peter was here all alone. He had no idea that Ivy League schools were already scouting Stiles, but he shouldn’t be surprised. He was smart enough to skip another few grades, honestly, maybe even test out of high school entirely. But maybe his father had woken from his stupor long enough to reject the idea of turning his twelve-year-old son loose in the world so young, no matter how little he seemed to know how to deal with him.

“Well, you don’t necessarily have to choose the same school for your undergrad degree and medical school. If you wanted to start out somewhere like Brown and then transfer to Columbia when you’re a little more comfortable, you could. There’s a train that goes all the way from Providence to New York City, even, so you could go check it out before you decided.”

The train went all the way to Boston too, but Derek didn’t bother to point it out. He wouldn’t mind being close enough to visit his sisters on a regular basis, but the idea of getting Stiles to himself for a few years before they fully integrated back into the pack was kind of nice too. Sure, he got to spend time alone with Stiles now, but by the time he graduated from high school and left for college he’d be over the age of consent, at least on the east coast. That meant his father couldn’t come between them, and if Stiles wanted to live with Derek there would be nothing to stop them.

But that was a long time from now, so there was plenty of time to work out the details. Plenty of time to ease Stiles into the idea of werewolves and mates and the fact that Derek would be right there with him for every big decision he had to make, whether it was what colleges to apply to or if he was ever going to come back to California. They had time to figure out the logistics of transferring Peter to a facility closer to his pack, and Derek had a few years to get some teaching experience under his belt before he moved on.

“Did you go to college in New York?” Stiles asked, leaning forward to set his empty dinner plate on the coffee table before he scooted a little closer to Derek on the couch. He couldn’t tell if Stiles was looking for contact or if he just didn’t realize what he was doing, but he set his own plate down next to Stiles’ and stretched his arm across the back of the couch in invitation anyway.

“NYU,” Derek answered, then he grinned. “But they didn’t scout me, I had to apply like the rest of the riffraff.”

Stiles’ blush was gorgeous, and Derek didn’t bother trying to talk himself out of touching. He reached out and ran his knuckles over his boy’s cheekbone, feeling the heat of his skin. “Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re amazing, of course schools would already be fighting over you.”

It was easy, once he’d reached over to touch Stiles, to slide a little closer until their thighs were pressed together. As soon as he made contact Stiles sort of melted against him, leaning into his side and letting his head fall against Derek’s shoulder like he’d been waiting for this all day. 

Maybe he had; as far as Derek could tell, he wasn’t getting much affection elsewhere, and it was clear that he craved it. Derek’s hand came up to stroke through his hair, fingers caressing his scalp until Stiles arched into the touch. 

“I don’t even know how those schools heard about me,” he murmured around a yawn. 

That was a question Derek could answer, at least. He hadn’t gotten a chance to read through Stiles’ file as thoroughly as he wanted, but he’d heard some of the other teachers talking about the Sheriff’s overachieving son before school even started. 

“Well, part of it is that your test scores are off the charts for your age group. You took the ACT last year, right? Your middle school counselor sent you to a special testing facility?” He waited for Stiles’ nod of assent before he continued. “That stuff gets reported nationally, and colleges can look through the data for anyone they think looks like a good fit for their school. Then they try to convince you to choose them.

“As for why medical schools are already trying to recruit you, I heard you wrote a pretty interesting paper back in seventh grade. In fact, it was so good that your counselor sent it to a couple people she knew from college, and they probably sent it to a couple people, and pretty soon everybody was talking about this kid in California who’s already working on a cure for dementia before he’s even in high school.”

Stiles shrugged against him, and Derek tightened his arm around slim shoulders to tuck him even closer to his side. “It’s not like it got published. And I haven’t cured anything, I just researched everything I could about what was happening to my mom, then I wrote it all down.”

“Well, like I said, people in academic circles talk, even about unpublished papers. And you’re pretty good at writing stuff down.”

It was true. Derek had only assigned one research paper to Stiles’ class so far, but his was far and away the best of the bunch, even putting aside Derek’s personal bias. His little mate was brilliant and articulate in a way most people probably wouldn’t believe if they saw the way he tried to fade into the background at school, shoulders hunched and never talking if he could help it. Protecting himself, Derek knew, though whether it was from bullies at school or at home Derek still wasn’t sure.

“How do you know all that?” Stiles asked, tilting his head just enough to squint up at Derek. He didn’t sound suspicious, and his scent was as calm and content as it ever got, tucked in next to Derek where he belonged. He was at the perfect angle for Derek to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, but he resisted the urge and ran his hand through Stiles’ hair instead.

“Before the school year started there was a little talk about you among the other teachers,” Derek answered with a shrug. “Mostly about your academic record and who your father was. But it made me curious enough to flip through your file. In your guidance counselor’s notes she mentioned your paper and the fact that she’d passed it to someone she knew at UCLA.”

“Huh,” Stiles said, as though it had never dawned on him that someone might take an interest in his work, let alone strangers. Derek hadn’t seen the paper, and he probably wouldn’t understand most of it if he did, but if that was the result of Stiles working through grief, he could only imagine how amazing he was going to be once he got to med school.

“She’s the one who wanted me to go to the high school,” he added after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t want to leave Scott, but I guess my dad was tired of getting calls from my teachers about me, because he said I had to do it.”

Scott, the only friend Stiles had ever mentioned, who’d apparently forgotten about him as soon as he wasn’t around to talk to every day. It wasn’t fair, but Derek was selfish enough to be glad it happened anyway, because if he’d had to wait two more years for Stiles to get to the high school, he would have had friends his own age and he wouldn’t have needed Derek nearly as much. The way things were now, at least Derek had an excuse to spend time with him, and Stiles was lonely enough not to question it.

“What about Thanksgiving? You told me once you and your dad usually spent holidays with Scott and his mom, right?”

The question got him a shrug, then Stiles’ scent went soggy with fresh grief. “He doesn’t really like to celebrate holidays anymore. I think he’s expecting me to go to Scott’s house, but I don’t think I’m really invited.”

Derek doubted Scott’s mother would turn him away, but he couldn’t blame Stiles for not wanting to go spend the day pretending he and Scott were still friends. And it was a risk, but just the thought of Stiles spending the holiday alone while his father worked just so he could avoid having to deal with his son made it an easy decision for Derek. Laura would be pissed, sure, but she'd get over it as long as he promised not to cancel on Christmas.

“Well, how about you come here? It would be just the two of us, but we could eat good food and watch movies and then neither of us would have to go somewhere we don’t want to be.”

“What about Miss Blake’s party?”

Derek shook his head and grinned at the clear jealousy Stiles tried not to let leak into his voice. “I’m not going to Miss Blake’s party no matter what you decide to do. I told you, the last thing I want to do is spend more time with my coworkers. I would like to spend more time with you, though, so what do you say? We’d have to think of something to tell your dad.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d hinted that Stiles should lie to his father about his relationship with Derek. There was the cell phone he’d given Stiles, but if he hadn’t encouraged Stiles to take the phone he’d probably be walking home in the dark right now, so Derek didn’t feel bad about it. He didn’t feel bad about offering him a place to spend the holiday either; Stiles deserved to spend the day with someone who cared about him, not as an afterthought for people who felt sorry for him.

Stiles was quiet for a long time, and Derek was starting to think he was going to refuse when he finally nodded and offered a tentative smile. “I can think of something to tell him.”

“Good,” Derek said, returning his smile. He let go long enough to reach for the remote, then he settled back down next to him and slid his arm back around Stiles’ shoulders. “Do you need to get home or do you want to watch a little TV?”

“My dad won’t be home until late,” Stiles answered, fitting himself against Derek like it was exactly where he was meant to be. “I can stay.”


End file.
